


Tumblr ficlets

by sightetsound



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fill, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightetsound/pseuds/sightetsound
Summary: This is a collection of filled prompts from Tumblr. Each prompt is a one-shot that varies in length, subject matter, and rating. The constant theme throughout each ficlet is to explore various scenarios for these two characters and their relationship with one another.





	1. Proven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Delphineygt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphineygt/gifts).



> Special thanks to Delphine - my inspiration, enabler, and dear friend.

“Yeah, alright,” Billy had said when Steve said he wasn’t going anywhere the way his mom did. He didn’t miss the way Harrington’s face fell for a brief moment, didn’t know the way  _bullshit_ rang in his ears instead of Billy’s doubtful dismissal. As in all things, Billy kept walking, but couldn’t quite ignore an ember of hope in his chest. He sneered and spit instead. 

“Matter of time,” had been Billy’s knee-jerk response to Steve’s confession a short time later. Steve’s lips had pursed, and Billy shifted in his discomfort, shoulders drawn tight. He feigned a shiver, rubbing a denim-clad arm firmly. “Don’t get comfortable, pretty boy, not like I’m gonna stick around after graduation.” Billy dragged deep on his cigarette so that he didn’t have to address the look on Steve’s face. Billy was no stranger to disappointment, but damn if it didn’t twinge seeing that expression echoed on Harrington’s –  _Steve’s_  – face. He leaned into that thought as he exhaled smoke into the cold air, reminded himself that he would only ever disappoint the people in his life, and in turn,  _be_ disappointed. “Not even for an ass as fine as yours,” Billy added with a wink and a smile full of teeth.

Better to hurt than be hurt. 

“Fuck off’a me,” Billy mumbled around a cigarette that Steve had permitted him to smoke in the warmth of his bedroom. Eyebrows furrowed, Billy rolled away to sit up so that he could tug his jeans back on for some semblance of cover from the cold and from fucking Steve’s wandering hands. Even with feet planted on the floor, he didn’t much feel grounded. Steve did that to him sometimes. A touch, or a look, and Billy felt like he was falling. “So goddamn needy, you know that? I already sucked your dick, asshole, nothing else you could want from me.”

“No, you’re absolutely right, Hargrove. Fuck was I thinking, wanting to- to fuckin’—”

He scowled at the use of his last name, so goddamn  _distant_ all of a sudden, and then harder at the floor when the word ‘cuddle’ hung unspoken in the silence between them. Billy inhaled one quick drag after another. Steve always wanted to fucking cuddle after sex like he –  _like he_ —

“The fuck  _are_ you thinking?”

If asked, Billy would struggle to determine who he was asking. He looked over his bare shoulder at Steve, still flushed from exertion, pretty as always with his big fucking eyes, and his dumb soft hair that Billy often touched, and he had to remind himself this wasn’t permanent. Nothing was fucking permanent.

“We fuck,  _Harrington,”_ he emphasized with a scowl, “And we smoke. Then I leave you in your  _ivory fuckin’ tower_ where you can piss and moan about how alone you are, moon over princess Wheeler, or whatever the  _fuck_ else you do.”

Billy tensed in anticipation of a fight when Steve sat up suddenly, but he forced a manic grin in place.

“King Steve,” he exhaled in a laugh, and hated himself for how fond it sounded.

“You don’t think I’m still hung up on Nancy,” Steve insisted.  “She’s my  _friend –”_

“—and the bitch you  _cried_ over when the Byers freak stole her away!”

“ _Don’t_ call her that. What—what is this even about, Billy? Huh? You wanna tell me what’s actually on your goddamn mind? What your actual problem is?”

Billy stood and turned to face Steve, a full belly laugh at the ready despite the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“You are. I told you – I fucking  _told_ you to keep your romantic  _bullshit_ to yourself—”

“Alright,” Steve said with finality, and Billy froze. “Yeah, I’m  _bullshit,_ Hargrove. Not the first time I’ve heard it.” Billy searched his face, dreading the resignation in his pretty boy’s voice. “You know, I,” Steve paused to laugh, but there was no humor in it. “I fucking  _tried,_ you know?” Steve offered a quick bob of his head, a shrug, and a shaky smile his way. 

“You should go.”

God damn. He’d finally done it. Suddenly aware of his own heartbeat, his shallow breathing, and the burn in his chest that had nothing to do with cigarette smoke, Billy exhaled a note of laughter, and felt his limbs go heavy with relief—or perhaps exhaustion. 

“I’m already gone,” Billy managed with as much bite as he could muster. On his brisk walk to the door, Steve graciously ignored how his voice wavered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt found [here](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/174618333587/angst-prompt-billy-knows-that-everyone-will)


	2. Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song prompt sent in by Delphine: "Better Now" by Post Malone.

“Billy,” Steve interrupted with a level tone, “This has got to stop.” 

He watched Billy stop dead in his tracks to turn almost alarmed blue eyes on him, cigarette momentarily forgotten between his lips. Belatedly, Steve realized how his phrasing had been interpreted, and he was on his feet to hold Billy’s hands in his instantly. 

“Not this,” Steve emphasized with a squeeze of his hands around Billy’s. “This,” Steve added, his eyes dragging pointedly along the latest damage done by Neil Hargrove. 

Billy scoffed a laugh, and retrieved his hands after a long moment of seemingly not wanting to let go – of not wanting to let this go.

“He knows,” Billy moved his gaze elsewhere, his words quiet as though Neil fucking Hargrove might overhear all the way from Old Cherry Road. “Or—or suspects something’s up, I dunno.”

“So leave,” Steve offered in a rush, waving around his parent’s house at all of the empty space that could – in a perfect world – be filled with Billy’s presence instead. “Stay here with me, and as soon as you’re done with school, we’ll—”

“Leave?” Billy asked, gaze turning sharp the way it used to do before Harrington became Steve. “With what money?” He asked.

Steve watched the flex of Billy’s jaw closely, saw the way he was struggling to check his fury – not at Steve, but at his circumstances, and ultimately, theirs.

When Billy saw Steve open his mouth, he raised a hand to stay his words.

“Don’t say your parents have money, I fucking know.” Billy’s brows furrowed for just a second, and he paused a moment to drag deep on his cigarette. He held the smoke several seconds, then let it out in a harsh breath. “Think you’re right, Harrington,” Harrington, “This does need to stop. You’re King Steve, the hell you doing with a fuck-up like me?”

That’s your dad talking, Steve wanted to say, but the singular sensation of this situation spiraling towards an end he hoped would never come made him incapable.

“Let me help you,” Steve began, taking a few steps towards him. “We can call Hop—”

“No fucking cops! You think anyone will hear what I have to say?” Billy shouted with a sharp laugh to follow.

“We have to try, I can’t just fucking do nothing for you, Billy, I—”

“I know you’ve got your hero thing going,” Billy said amid a sneer, plucking the cigarette from between his lips to inspect it as though he couldn’t bare looking at Steve anymore. “But this is one monster you can’t take your bat to.”

Steve couldn’t argue with that.

Weeks passed without event. Billy’s bruises from that night faded and had yet to be replaced, as far as Steve could tell from quick glances in the showers.

Billy’s bruises faded, but Steve felt as raw as he had the night of their breakup. Billy had never not had girls tripping over themselves for his attention, even when they were together, but he was back to playing along. To throw Neil off the scent, he hoped. The last person Steve loved jumped into a new relationship immediately after theirs ended, so he guessed there was no telling.

Billy looked—good. Better now than he had that last night at his place.

It pained Steve to think that this was the right move to make, that he was as bullshit at relationships as ever before when he’d tried so damn hard to be good to and for Billy.

Life went on and pulled Steve with it. Nancy harassed him into accepting her help for his by-then late college application essays, the kids roped him into their tabletop game garbage (which Steve would never admit enjoying), and graduation became an imminent thing rather than some far-off eventuality.

The ceremony passed painfully slow, but as Steve posed for photos with his diploma in one hand, and his other shaking the principal’s, he spied a familiar head of hair towards the back of the auditorium. Steve mechanically followed through in his final walk across the stage to the audience’s applause, but it all felt like bullshit to him.

The graduation party Tommy hosted was worse. Hawkins High graduates going hard one last time with their bullshit friends before they went off to bullshit colleges to build bullshit careers. Steve played along, made nice, and pretended like this was the happiest day of his life the way everyone else seemed to. He drank the shitty beer that was offered, but upgraded to a mixed drink that smelled more like gasoline than alcohol when Billy finally arrived with a girl under his arm.

They made brief eye contact when he walked in, and Steve felt want tighten his chest. Billy looked away first, and then he was lost in a sea of drunk high schoolers. Steve downed the rest of his drink.

Eventually, Steve stopped dancing, stopped drinking, and made his way outside for a cigarette. He walked around to the side of Tommy’s house where it was quiet and dark before lighting up. Or attempting to, anyway.

flk. flk flk flk.

“Fuck,” Steve tossed the empty lighter across the yard. He exhaled harshly, hands on his hips. As he turned to head in to bum a light, he spotted someone walking towards him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Hargrove?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Billy returned and stopped just short of being in Steve’s face. Neither spoke for a few beats. “Any big plans for summer?”

As though they hadn’t made plans to drive out of town to celebrate months ago.

Steve scoffed and looked elsewhere.

“Yeah, uh, no. Got dumped, so,” Steve shrugged, arms dropping back to his sides uselessly. “They probably think that they’re better now.”

A pause, and then, “You only say that ‘cause you’re not around.”

Steve hazarded a look at Billy’s dimly lit face, breath caught in his throat.

Billy breathed a single note of laughter, and flicked that tongue of his across his bottom lip.

“You and your fucking doe eyes,” Billy murmured, and Steve ached with the desire to touch him. “You know I never meant to let you down.”

It was Billy’s turn to look away, so Steve seized the moment to say, “Woulda gave you anything.” Everything.

Billy looked back at Steve, and Steve managed to stand the weight of his gaze that he couldn’t quite read in the darkness. Billy took another step closer, and Steve’s lips parted when he saw the way he stared at his mouth.

“I know.” Billy’s voice was a whisper, and Steve felt his breath on his lips. “You’re only the love of my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original prompt](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/174819728787/are-you-ready-for-my-terrible-music-prompt) found here.


	3. Gym AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve joins a gym and meets Golden Boy who turns out to be his personal trainer.

Steve didn’t miss high school for shit. Not the boring ass classes, and certainly not the unspoken social hierarchy. Three years out of high school, and three years out of Hawkins, Steve had to admit that he did miss basketball. Not even basketball specifically, but the routine and relief of being physical.

Exercising at the rec-room at his university started out alright, but most of the time Steve could barely motivate himself to go to class, much less remain on campus once class concluded. Running helped for a while, but circling his shitty apartment, a gas station, some tiny shopping strips, and the laundromat that only reminded him of the chores that needed doing got old fast. He needed a change of scenery, and some sort of direction.

Joining a gym had been easy; a tour, and a quick rundown of the gym’s services like free personal trainers and massage beds sealed the deal. Working up the nerve to go to that gym where, in the sunny state of California, everyone apparently knew the right amount of reps, their target BPM, and the perfect sequence of machine use to maximize their fitness trajectory was harder.

Steve’s first visit was—well. He would have called it a success were it not for the quintessentially Californian guy – shirtless, of course – in the free weights section directly in his line of vision from the treadmill he was on. Gold-brown hair buzzed short on the sides with longer curls up top, and an even more golden torso slicked with sweat, Steve was rendered immediately and effectively distracted.

He stepped off the treadmill absentmindedly, spellbound by that guy’s extraordinary body, and by a single pearl of sweat that guided Steve’s gaze down the length of his abdomen to where it was absorbed by his fitted grey joggers that left very little to the imagination.

A few more paces away until he collided with another body.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he expelled in a rush, crouching low to pick up the water bottle he’d made the other person drop. “Sorry about that, I, uh, wasn’t paying attention.” Steve flashed a sheepish smile and stepped around them to head to the front of the gym.

He stopped by the front desk to sign-up for a personal trainer slot real quick, then on his way out, he took a quick glance at the free weights section to see that guy staring right at him with a shit-eating grin. Steve jerked his head away and ducked out of the gym.

“This is Billy, he’ll be your personal trainer going forward,” the receptionist explained with a cheerful smile, clutching her clipboard to her chest.

“Oh,” Steve said dumbly, bobbing his head in an approximation of a nod, “Thanks, man, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Just wait until you get started,” she added, “He’ll ride your ass.”

“Sorry?” Steve’s face was hot, and damn him, that fucking guy was grinning again.

“Let’s get to work, pretty boy.”

Work they did. By his fifth session, Steve accepted that Billy was relentless – he pulled no punches, pushed Steve further, faster, and harder than Coach ever had, and goaded him a hell of a lot more, too.

“C’mon, Indiana, you can do better than that.”

Steve exhaled harshly and glowered over at Billy who stood at the ready with that trademark smirk.

“It’s Steve,” he grunted out, shifting his grip minutely around the heavy-ass dumbbells in his grip. He curled his arms, pulling each weight up to his shoulder in the pace he knew Billy wanted him to go. “Jesus, this is my third set of reps, can I please stop?”

“If you want to bitch out,” Billy taunted, and Steve kept going.

“Making progress, Steve,” Billy had said at the end of that session while he dragged a soft rag across Steve’s forehead for him.

The gesture was—odd, initially, but Steve was grateful for Billy’s recognition.

“Thanks,” Steve returned, smile small but sincere, “You’re a hell of a trainer.”

“I know.” Billy winked at him. Steve scoffed and lightly shoved past him on his way out with Billy’s laughter at his back.

“You’re bench-pressing today.” Billy’s tone gave no room for argument, and he lifted one of his dark, shapely brows when Steve gaped at him. “What? You don’t trust me to spot you?”

“No, I do, it’s just…”

Steve glanced down, briefly – covertly – appreciatively taking in those same grey joggers Billy wore before that made his ass look spectacular, and his—

“That’s what I thought.” Billy seemingly took his hesitance for reluctance. Billy turned him by his shoulders, a broad grin spreading across his lips as he shoved up against Steve’s back to maneuver him towards the benches.

Once there, Billy gave Steve’s hip a smack in parting, then he went about securing the proper weights onto the barbell. He leaned over and patted the bench, those watchful blue eyes on Steve all the while. Billy watched Steve a lot, he noticed over the span of their sessions. It made him painfully aware of himself, and that only seemed to encourage Billy to continue his behavior.

Steve sighed and eased onto the bench at Billy’s urging. He stared at the barbell while Billy got into position, spreading those legs of his in line with his shoulders.

“Start slow,” Billy murmured to him quietly, voice pitching lower than Steve had ever heard it, and fuck if that didn’t go straight to his cock. “Ease yourself into it.”

“Alright,” Steve returned haltingly. He reached up to grip the barbell, but before he could begin, Billy’s hands were on his to adjust his positioning. He looked up at Billy’s face, surprisingly absent of any cockiness in that moment. Until he felt Steve staring, he guessed, and flashed that tongue of his. Steve shifted and looked away quickly.

Steve pushed the barbell up and out of its holds. With an even motion, he brought the weighted bar down towards his chest, then gradually pushed it back up.

“Good,” Billy said, “Keep it up.”

Steve closed his eyes to block out Billy’s distracting face, but somehow that made Billy’s praise all the worse. He lowered and pushed, lowered and pushed, and tried not to drop the damn bar every time Billy opened his dumb, beautiful mouth.

“Think you can go a little bit longer for me?”

Steve cracked his eyes open to look at Billy, and managed a slight nod of his head to indicate he could. God, he’d do just about anything for Billy to keep talking to him in that tone of voice, and that volume like it was just them, only them.

Billy smiled – not that goddamn smirk, but a genuine smile, and it fucked Steve up enough that he nearly fumbled the bar. Billy reacted quickly and helped Steve stabilize before he lifted the barbell and settled it into its grooves on the rack.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, sounding anything but, “I’m good.” He settled there on the bench, his eyes closed a few seconds while he caught his breath, and struggled to rein himself in. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze went right to Billy’s groin, and onto that bulge that Steve wanted to put his mouth on.

“I’m done for today,” he announced, shifting to sit up. “Got homework, and—stuff.”

If Billy noticed, he gave little enough indication.

“Alright,” he said, and it was Billy’s turn to sound rough.

After a (very cold) shower in the locker room, Steve slung his gym bag over his shoulder and headed out. As he fished out his keys on the walk to his car, he glanced over to see Billy smoking on the side of the building. Awkwardly, he waved, then immediately realized how dumb that was and kept walking without looking to see if Billy returned the wave.

“The hell was that,” he muttered to himself, pushing his wet hair back and out of his face. “Fuckin’ Christ.”

“Harrington!”

Steve paused with his hand on the door, half-turning to see Billy jogging up to him. That half-turn turned into a stumble when Billy pinned him against his car, and Steve’s gasp was quickly silenced by Billy’s mouth. He took advantage of Steve’s already parted lips and licked teasingly between them, drawing back only enough to look into Steve’s wide brown eyes, his signature smirk in place.

“You did real good today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original prompt](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/174858505692/alright-alright-heres-another-one-for-you-modern) here!


	4. Grease is the Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 50s Grease AU that one (1) person asked for!

What was there to do in the middle of Hawkins, Indiana?  _Jack_ and  _shit_ would be Billy’s response if anybody cared to ask him. Unsurprisingly, no one bothered. His piece of shit father hadn’t even bothered consulting the rest of the family before announcing they were leaving the beach breeze for cow shit.

With that move, the possibility of reuniting with his summer love was left behind, too. 

 _“My family comes to California for vacation almost every year,”_ Steve had said, all earnestness and hope, “ _Maybe we’ll see each other again someday.”_

Billy now regretted turning the offer to exchange phone numbers and addresses down. He had explained why his rejection was utterly necessary, and Steve – sweet, kind Steve – had understood. It didn’t make their parting any easier, neither knowing for certain if their paths would ever again cross.

The move beheaded that hope with the sort of definite finality that only Neil Hargrove could provide.

As soon as they settled into their new home in Hawkins, Neil _graciously_ extended the offer to cover the difference on a car for Billy – with the caveat that he work that debt off by chauffeuring Max to and from school and wherever the hell else she wanted to go. Billy accepted, and he found himself a 1948 Ford Deluxe Convertible in decent working order. He patched her up, sanded, primed, and slapped a beautiful coat of navy blue paint on her himself over the remainder of the summer.

School soon began, and Billy’s name was on the lips of almost every Hawkins High student. From brief appearances at the burger point – one of the precious few hoppin’ hangout spots for teenagers, he soon realized – to random sightings of his car about town, everyone wanted to know more about the new kid from California. 

By the time lunch time had hit, Billy had learned all of the who’s-who of Hawkins, who held the best parties, and who was single. The information had been given to him like an offering that might be given to appease a new reigning King, a fact Billy reflected on with a sort of a smirk.

Being paid deference would make time pass quickly in this shithole of a town, if nothing else. 

Some freckled kid named Tommy approached Billy at lunch to offer that he join him and his friends for lunch out by the bleachers. For lack of better options, Billy agreed. Tommy offered introductions and Billy promptly forgot their names, instead choosing to accept their cigarettes. While they chatted, Billy observed, sizing up each and every member of the small group until they looked away in their discomfort.

Confident that he’d sufficiently wedged himself higher on the food chain, Billy looked out over the football field that had the track laid out around the perimeter. Across the field, Billy spied three students sitting against the gymnasium wall. 

“Who’re they?” Billy asked around his cigarette, gesturing towards the trio with his chin.

“Oh,  _them?”_ Carol giggled, “That’s princess Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and Steve.”

“Steve  _used to_ party with us, but he turned square after dating Nancy Wheeler. She’s with the freak now.”

Billy’s sharp gaze pinned Tommy to his spot on the bleachers.

“Steve what?”

“What?”

“His last name, what is it?” Billy demanded.

“It’s Harrington, Billy. Steve Harrington.”

It couldn’t be his Steve. The odds of that were astronomical. Nonetheless, Billy hoped against hope, and wracked his brain trying to remember where it was Steve had said he was from. They’d made the mistake of trading that information mid-make-out with busy hands, so the details were more than a little hazy. 

* * *

The rest of the day dragged on, and despite it being a nonexistent blip of a student body, Billy saw hide nor hair of anyone that remotely resembled his Steve. He caught the princess staring him down from across the hall while he tossed his books into his locker at the end of the day, and when their eyes met, she promptly turned tail and booked it the other direction. 

Billy slammed his locker shut and made his way out of the high school towards his car. Tommy and his group were gathered around the convertible, all placating smiles and eyes on him.

“You wanna go grab a burger, Billy?”

“I got plans,” Billy said, glancing over across the parking lot to see Max making her way over to their designated meeting spot. “Another time.”

“Next time for sure,” Tommy agreed with a broad grin that promptly melted into a derisive smirk when he saw someone walking up to Billy’s back.

Billy half-turned to look, eyebrow arching when Nancy Wheeler, books held protectively against her chest, approached. Behind her were a few people, but Billy kept eye-contact with Wheeler, intrigued and annoyed that she was staring him down like he’d wronged her. Never even had a word with this broad before, the hell was that look for?

“Are you Billy?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

The rumbles of laughter at Billy’s back made him grin.

Nancy’s lips pursed as though she was disappointed, and she looked over her shoulder at Byers and some redheaded chick with glasses bigger than their face. Byers shot Nancy a quick glance, but he sidestepped nevertheless and revealed—

“Steve?”

“Billy?!”

The two met in the middle, shocked laughter and smiles shared between the two. Steve’s hands settled on Billy’s upper arms, fingers gripping the buttery leather of his jacket, and Billy impulsively pulled him close, but not close enough.

“How are you here?” Steve breathlessly asked, his brown eyes and that broad smile holding Billy captive.

“My old man got a new job, and we—”

“I can’t believe it!”

“You two know each other?” Tommy cut in, voice pitching higher in his disbelief.

Suddenly remembering the others around them, Billy moved his hands to Steve’s shoulders to give him a firm push back. He glanced over at Tommy and the others who were all staring at Billy like he’d grown a second head.

“Yeah, uh-… He’s a friend of the family. Haven’t seen him in years, he’s like a brother to me.” Billy hazarded a glance back at Steve to beg his participation, his heart pounding in fear of what Neil might do if this got back to him somehow.

Steve’s wide eyes disarmed him momentarily, and Billy immediately wanted to take it back.

“Brothers,” Steve confirmed with a tight nod, his gaze never leaving Billy’s. “Right. Tell Mr. Hargrove I said hey,” he added pointedly with a frown, turning on his heel to walk away. Byers and the redhead followed him after him, but Nancy stood her ground and gave this smug fucking look that immediately pissed him off.

“Can we go, Billy?”

He turned to look at Maxine who had probably seen the whole thing unfold, and Billy clenched his fists.

“Get in the car,” Billy bit out, shoving past Tommy to climb into his car. The moment Max did the same, Billy threw the car into gear and peeled out of the parking space towards home.

Silence lasted all of a minute.

“Who was that?”

Billy could feel her gaze on the side of his face, and his jaw worked. She heard him lie about Steve being a friend of the family. If that got back to his dad… If Max squealed—

“You can’t say anything to my dad, Max.” Billy insisted, cutting her quick glances between watching the road. “I fucking mean it, Max, not a word.”

“Okay!” Max cried, her eyebrows drawn tight in her confusion. “But who is he?”

“No one, now.”

* * *

Billy tried to get Steve’s attention over the next few days to no avail. He would either claim he had to babysit, go to basketball practice, or, to Billy’s fucking supreme irritation, hang out with Nancy. So Billy did the sensible thing. 

He joined the basketball team.

When he rolled onto the basketball court, with the shorts, the socks, the works, Steve put his hands on his hips and stared at him. When Billy got close enough, he could see that he was smiling, just a little bit.

“Greaser turned jock, Hargrove?” he teased, dribbling the basketball idly while the other players filtered out of the locker room.

“No reason I can’t be both.”

“No,” Steve agreed, bouncing the ball towards him. “But can you play?”

Billy caught the ball, gave a few dribbles, then turned to shoot at the half-court mark. He was already sticking his tongue out at Steve when the ball went through the net.

Steve laughed in concession, and smiled wider for Billy to see.

* * *

Billy lingered in the locker room after his shower, taking his time slicking his hair back into perfect form. In the mirror, he watched as students slipped out for the day, and was pleased to see that Steve was slowly getting ready, like he too was waiting for a moment alone. 

Billy slid his comb into the back-pocket of his fitted jeans and made his way over to the lockers near Steve to grab his bag.

“I’m sorry,” Billy murmured, looking at him through the corner of his eye.

Steve sighed and hunched over to tie his sneakers.

“I know-…” He sat back up and tossed a leg over the bench so that he straddled it, facing Billy properly. “I know.” Steve gave a small, defeated shrug.

Billy took a quick glance around before shifting to kneel before Steve, a hand sliding to rest on Steve’s thigh.

“I missed you.”

Steve breathed a laugh and looked away, shifting his thigh so that Billy moved his hand.

“Shoved me away mighty quick.”

“I said I’m sorry, Steve. It’s just-… we barely got away with it back in California, how are we gonna manage to keep quiet in Hawkins?”

“You’re absolutely right, Billy, no way of managing it at all. Best not to try.” Steve replied sarcastically, sliding off the bench to distance himself from Billy. “I’m late to my study session with Nancy.”

Billy kicked the bench.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, trying to get close to Steve was a challenge. Sometimes Steve seemed amenable to talking, other times he wanted nothing to do with him. Wheeler being around made things that more difficult too, the way she’d stare Billy down whenever he came near.

Finally, Billy’d had enough.

“What?” he asked her point-blank during passing period.

She glared up at him, and Billy laughed.

“Don’t play with Steve anymore.”

“Who says I’m playing, Wheeler?”

She stepped closer to him to get a better look at his face, the two stopped in the middle of the hallway. Students moved around them but otherwise left them be. Billy allowed her to look his fill. Eventually, Nancy seemed satisfied.

“We’re going to the homecoming dance tonight.”

Billy stared at her as she walked away from him. That was a blessing if he ever heard one. And maybe, just maybe, he found himself an in through Nancy goddamn Wheeler. Billy smiled wide and got his ass to class.

* * *

Billy dressed up for the occasion. That is, he traded his jeans for black slacks, and buttoned his shirt up all the way for once. He drew the line at a tie. He applied cologne to his neck, and dabbed some just above his groin – just in case. After inspecting his appearance in his vanity mirror, he gave his reflection a grin and a wink for luck, then headed out the door like a man on a mission.

The gymnasium was decked out in décor designed by the student council. Billy bobbed and weaved through hanging streamers, and avoided papier-mâché designs on his prowl to find Steve. Off to the side off the gymnasium, a small distance from the dancing group of teenagers, Billy found Steve sipping some punch. He looked every bit the handsome square he was, all smooth lines and proper posture.

Steve watched his approach, and Billy didn’t miss how he took in his appearance. Feeling significantly more sure of himself than he had mere minutes ago under Steve’s appreciative gaze, Billy leaned over to murmur against Steve’s ear.

“Come with me.”

Harrington gave him a look, and Billy settled onto his heels to give him a look of his own.

 _Trust me,_ Billy begged. Steve sighed and gestured for Billy to lead the way. Billy took Steve by the arm to lead him out a side door so that they were alone on the side of the gymnasium.

“Well?”

Billy had to smile at Steve’s put-upon impatience. Fucking cute. He stepped closer to him, offering him his open hands. He hesitated for a moment, but Steve soon caved and accepted his hands. Billy quickly laced their fingers and held fast, eyes on Steve’s.

“Never knew how much of a princess you were.”

Steve scoffed and went to remove his hands, but Billy squeezed his hands to help soothe Steve’s wounded ego, a quiet laugh coming forth.

“I didn’t know you were such an asshole, so we’re even.”

Billy bobbed his head, flicking his tongue out over his bottom lip.

“You’re right, baby,” Billy murmured quietly, rubbing his thumbs in even strokes over the back of Steve’s hands. “I was an asshole to push you away the way I did.”

Billy’s shoulders relaxed when Steve sighed and seemed to settle even more. 

Muffled notes of a ballad reached where they stood, and Steve smiled a little.

“I like this song.”

“’Course you do, you have terrible taste in music,” Billy teased, but he was already pulling him close to his chest. He rested one hand at the small of Steve’s back, and raised their joined hands to their shoulders and started to sway to the melody.

Steve laughed, and it made Billy’s heart swell with relief and adoration all at once. Billy was utterly powerless when Steve closed the scant distance between their mouths for a firm kiss.

“Terrible taste in men, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original prompt](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/175021329087/grease-au-billy-as-danny-and-steve-as-sandy-in) here!


	5. College Roommates [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's up late studying for a test the following morning, but his roommate Billy is distracting him with loud music.

Steve tapped the end of his pen against his open textbook and stole a quick glance to the corner of his laptop screen. 3:37 AM. If he went to sleep right then, he would get three and a half hours of sleep, give or take.

“Why did I agree to an 8 o’clock class,” Steve bemoaned, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

He had been asking a lot of ‘why’ questions lately. Why didn’t he study more? Why didn’t he study  _sooner? Why the fuck,_ Steve asked himself with no small degree of irritation as he glanced sidelong at the too-thin wall that separated his shitty apartment’s two bedrooms,  _did I agree to room with Billy Hargrove?_

The fucker didn’t study for shit, hardly  _slept_ from what Steve could tell, yet he maintained effortless A’s across the board. 

 _“Should let me tutor you sometime, King Steve, I’ll make the material stick,”_ Billy had offered with a leer and a smirk during one of Steve’s (many) meltdowns about exams. He should’ve taken that offer, even though it had been the leer and smirk that kept him from doing so. It would’ve felt like giving ground to Billy for  _whatever_  it was Billy wanted, and Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to owe Billy a favor.

The bass of the beginning notes of NIN’s “Closer” could be felt through the floor, and Steve could’ve sworn the walls shook with it.

_You let me violate you…_

_You let me desecrate you…_

_You let me penetrate you…_

_You let me complicate you._

“Asshole,” Steve sighed, pushing himself out of his chair. He closed his laptop, flipped his textbook shut, and turned his light off in quick succession before falling into bed. He tugged the blankets over his head and turned his back to Billy’s blaring music as though that would help drown it out.

It didn’t.

He closed his eyes tightly, and concentrated on going to sleep. Hard to do with Trent Reznor loudly crooning into his earholes. Steve launched out of bed to stomp out of his bedroom and into Billy’s.

“Could you  _please_ turn it—oh.”

Billy was spread out across the mattress, all golden skin and muscle, thick thighs spread as he fucked into his own fist with rhythmic rolls of his hips that Steve could almost feel. He didn’t stop when he realized Steve barged into his room, he only smirked and looked him over appraisingly with half-lidded eyes and those  _fucking_ eyelashes of his.

“Come to help, Harrington?” he asked, nodding to indicate how Steve’s hand had fallen away from the doorknob in his surprise. Billy planted his feet on the mattress and lifted his hips off the mattress to thrust through the tight tunnel of his fist with an airy moan.

The song alone should’ve been indicated what Billy was up to at such a late hour, Steve considered while he stood there as if transfixed by the image of Billy pleasuring himself. And he was. The unlocked door was a mystery until it wasn’t.

Realization must have registered on his face because Billy was suddenly grinning wide, tongue passing over his fat bottom lip to wet it.

“Took you long enough,” Billy commented, removing his hand from around his cock to instead run his fingers up his abdomen, over the ridges of his muscles, then back down again just to watch Steve’s gaze follow. His hips worked up in tight little circles as though he was fighting the urge to touch himself, to chase pleasure to that blissful end, and Steve felt his mouth water.

_I want to fuck you like an animal_

_I want to feel you from the inside_

He wanted to see Billy come, he realized when he took a step into the room. He wanted to  _make_ Billy come, he realized when he saw the way Billy’s grin widened at his approach.

“ _Tonight_ , hurry it up,” Billy barked, all but tugging Steve into bed by the hips once he was near enough. Busy hands tugged Steve’s t-shirt off before they were all over his skin, pushing, pulling, dragging and stroking.

“How long—” Steve gasped out, reeling under this dizzying discovery that Billy wanted him,  _had_ wanted him. He gripped Billy’s knees a moment, his fingers sliding up the sides of his thighs to hold his hips, eyes greedily taking in every inch of skin he could see while shifting to slot his hips between Billy’s thighs.

“Stupid question,” Billy murmured, but the way he evaded Steve’s gaze made him think it wasn’t.

He stayed Billy’s hands at the waistband of his pajama pants to make him look. When he did, Steve watched surprise, then uncertainty, and cockiness bleed out of his gaze.

“Billy,” Steve whispered, “How long?”

He moved his fingers from Billy’s wrists to cover his hands, and the way Billy’s fingers twitched as though he hadn’t expected it made Steve smile. Billy held Steve’s gaze a while longer, and he knew that he was working out what to say.

Steve didn’t have opportunity to wonder for long. Billy kissed him suddenly, all heat and tongue and teeth. Billy kissed like he’d been starving for it, and that was answer enough. Hands went to push his pajamas down again, and Steve helped him along, kicking out of them once they were low enough. Steve gave a low moan when Billy grabbed his ass to pull him closer, to rub and grind against the other, and thrilled when the sound was mirrored by Billy.

“Mm—” Steve protested, laughing against Billy’s mouth when he attempted and failed to pull away. Billy slid one hand to the back of Steve’s neck, fingers buried in and clutching his hair. “Bil—Billy, hold on a sec.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his kiss-reddened lips taking on a moue that Steve was quick to kiss away. Billy managed to distract him in order to steal several more kisses with increasing desperation before Steve pulled away again. “ _What,_ Steve?”

“I’m not having sex with you to Nine Inch Nails.”

The speed with which he grabbed his phone to shut off the music would have made Steve laugh if he wasn’t moaning when Billy turned his attention back to where he wanted it to be.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/175250797642/modern-college-roommate-au-steve-needs-to-study) found here!


	6. Summer [Explicit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Steve as summer camp counselors with an INTENSE rivalry.

“Day after day, Aspen keeps kicking our ass.”

“Yeah, because you suck at every—ow!”

“Knock it off, shitheads, I’m thinking here.”

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to call us shitheads.”

“ _Pretty sure_ you should do what I say. You want to beat these assholes or not?”

The two remaining kids in the dodgeball game for team Cinder, Lucas and Dustin, shared a look and gave a synchronized nod at their camp counselor. Steve lifted his head from their pitiful excuse of a huddle to look over at Aspen’s line-up.

“Did you guys seriously only eliminate  _one_  of his players?” Steve asked loud enough that the opposing team’s counselor laughed. Steve glared in reply. “Wow, team Cinder  _does_  suck—OW!” Steve settled his arms across Dustin’s and Lucas’s backs and leaned back into the huddle.

“Okay, it’s time to stop fucking around. We need to get our players back in.”

“Steve, we can’t—”

“—yeah, this idiot can’t catch a live ball to save his life!”

“Cinderella, what’s keeping you? We’ve got a game to win over here!”

Steve popped his head out of the huddle to throw a rather rude gesture at Billy but ended up standing upright when the opposing team’s captain blew him a kiss in reply.

“Oh my God, fuck that guy,” Steve breathed with a lopsided smile.

When the two standing players exchanged a quick look, Steve asked, “What was that for?”

“Uh-… Nothing. Catch live balls, get our players back. Ready?” Lucas asked, extending his hand to Dustin.

Dustin clapped his hand in Lucas’s, and they both nodded firmly.

“Ready!”

It was a long battle that grew especially heated when the referee had to separate the counselors from getting in one another’s face – Steve shouting and red in the face, and Billy all bright-eyed from competition and grinning. Players on either side were lost, then gained again, but at the end of the game…

While the Party of team Cinder jumped around and screamed in victory, Steve lifted his palms up in a cheeky, “What can you do?” gesture, then brought them down to frame his groin. Maintaining eye-contact, Steve mouthed, “Blow me.”

Billy’s blue eyes narrowed, but that smirk never faltered.

It was for that reason, Steve supposed, that he shouldn’t have been surprised when he found himself herded into the gear-room after lights out by Billy Hargrove who took that jab extremely literally.

“Fuck,” Steve exhaled, watching Billy lick the underside of his cock. His lips parted, brows knitting together as those pink lips wrapped around the crown to give the most gentle of sucks. He reached behind himself to white-knuckle a shelf he was pinned against, exhaling harshly when the treatment continued. “Fuck.”

“I break you already, Harrington?” Billy asked, entirely too smug for someone on his knees in a dusty shed with his sworn enemy’s cock near his mouth.

Steve glowered down at Billy, but his irritation melted away when Billy kissed the join of his thigh and groin, and fingers stroked the backs of his thighs in a gesture that struck him as tender. Billy took Steve’s continued silence as encouragement to continue tormenting him, so after wagging that ridiculously sexy tongue at him, he put it to good use  _on_ him.

Billy gripped Steve’s hips to stay his movements while he circled the sensitive tip of Steve’s cock. Lips caught the flesh to give a soft suckle that pulled a shaky sigh from him. Steve’s thigh muscles twitched under the light, teasing attention, and he felt  _hot_ all over. Billy must’ve noticed because he looked up at Steve with a look so heated it made his cock throb.

His breath left him in a rush watching Billy suck him down bit by bit, and the  _feeling_ was good enough to make his eyes heavy in his desire to close them, but he couldn’t miss this, especially not when Billy seemed to feed off of being watched. Billy stopped near the end, pulled back to bob his head forwards, then drew back off of Steve’s cock with a moan.

“You’re bigger than I thought you’d be,” Billy said, smirking up at Steve.

“Okay, you can’t just— _say_ shit like that,” Steve breathed, reaching down to squeeze the base of his own cock, breathing in and out to settle the hum in his veins.

“Why, you’re already close?” he asked, licking those lips of his with his obscene tongue. “Gonna come on my face, Harrington?” Billy closed his eyes and parted his lips to offer Steve a preview of how that might look. “Or in my mouth?” He pulled Steve’s hand away to place it at the back of his head.

“Oh,” Steve moaned, breath coming harder at the options Billy was giving him. “Do you—I mean—I— _oh,_ fuck,  _Billy._ ” His fingers curled into the soft golden hair at the back of Billy’s head and stared helplessly as Billy took him into his mouth – this time, to the root.

Billy moved back and forth over his cock, and it was only when he closed his eyes could Steve look away as well. On one of his upstrokes, Billy  _moaned_ around Steve’s cock, and it nearly brought him to the floor. He caught himself as soon as his knees buckled, but he wasn’t fast enough to prevent Billy from noticing entirely. He pulled off of his cock with a sigh that Steve felt and shifted to squeeze his hips.

“I got you, pretty boy.”

His words made Steve flush, and Billy’s toothy smile – charming and friendly for once – made desire clench in his abdomen.

Steve took the advice Billy had shouted at him countless times before and planted his feet. He carded his fingers through Billy’s hair, stroking and tugging softly at the root. He pulled enough that Billy got the hint and tipped his chin up to look at him, his pretty lips parted. Steve stared a long moment to appreciate and consider how wildly surreal the whole situation was and decided:  _Fuck it._

He leaned over and slanted his lips over Billy’s. Unsurprisingly, Billy’s tongue immediately pressed for entrance, and Steve gave as good as he got. He kissed Billy thoroughly, hungrily, feeding off of his pleasure and supplying his own. Steve sucked on Billy’s bottom lip and it pulled a deep moan from Billy. Drunk on that reaction, craving more, he bit down hard enough for him to  _feel_ it, and Billy  _whined._

The kiss ended and the two stared at one another for mere seconds before they fell back into kissing like they’d been doing it for years as opposed to minutes. Steve moved his hands from Billy’s hair to his shoulders, guiding himself carefully down to his knees to be on an even ground with the other. Immediately, Steve dragged a hand down Billy’s solid torso to drop below his snug sweatpants to encircle his cock in his fist.

Billy gasped into his mouth and stilled long enough for Steve to feel him quake momentarily as though it was too much, too fast. Steve loosened his grip, but as soon as he did, Billy reached into his own pants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s to tighten his grip again. Steve dragged his fist over Billy’s hard cock, moaning low when he began to guide his strokes to show him exactly how he liked it.

Their closeness, the brush of their lips and the tangle of their tongues alone brought Steve a bone-deep sense of pleasure, but he needed more. Billy must’ve had the same idea, because as soon as Steve thought it, Billy was tugging him closer. He pushed his sweats down just far enough to free his cock, then took both in hand to stroke.

A hand flew to Billy’s shoulder for balance, and to help ground himself in the quickly overwhelming sensation. His head lolled forwards, and he licked a stripe up the length of Billy’s throat, groaning in response to Billy’s tightened grip. He reached down to join Billy’s hand, aiding him in the sensual slide, and soon he was rocking his hips into their hands and against Billy.

“Billy—” Steve panted, lifting his head to kiss him again. He gasped against his mouth at the sharp bite to his lip he was given, and again when Billy sucked on the abused flesh. “Billy, I—”

“Yeah?” Billy gasped, and Steve could feel his smirk, “You gonna come for me, Steve?”

“ _Billy,”_ Steve moaned, gripping his shoulder tighter, the sound of Billy’s voice and their mingled breathing hastening his pleasure. “ _Fuck,_ Billy, please—”

Billy maintained his pace and rhythm, though his hips bucked once or twice too. Steve took a breath, held it, suddenly desperate to prolong this pleasure. Billy’s gaze met his, however, and Steve was gone.

He began to cry out, but Billy, acting quickly, muffled the noise with his mouth as Steve fell apart, shaking and pulsing wet heat over their joined hands and Steve’s bare abdomen. Billy stroked him through it, and didn’t stop even when Steve had nothing further to give.

Steve writhed in his grip, oversensitive but unable to deny that it felt good, and when he managed to finally open his eyes, he saw how wrecked Billy looked. He moaned lowly, his mouth parted, and he watched how Billy’s eyes fell to his mouth.

“What do you want?” Steve whispered, tightening his grip around their cocks to the sound of Billy’s low moan.

“Kiss me,” Billy demanded, honest and vulnerable.

Steve kissed him.

Mere seconds after, Billy slowed their joined hands to a stop, their grip firm. Billy came with Steve’s mouth on his, and once he was spent, he drew back with a heavy sigh. His face was flushed, pupils blown, and his lips bitten red, and Steve couldn’t help but kiss him again. His kiss was met with a surprised but pleased noise, and Steve grinned wide enough that the kiss split.

“I got you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/175027049502/prompt-billy-and-steve-working-as-summer-camp) found here!  
>  MORE IMPORTANTLY, Delphineygt drew [art](http://delphineygt.tumblr.com/post/175126474589/because-sightetsound-wrote-porn-for-me-ima-draw) inspired by a certain scene from this ficlet! Please send her praise for days! I love it dearly.


	7. Proxy Professor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grad-student Billy Hargrove is filling in for Steve Harrington's English professor. Distractions and grade crises ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt found [here](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/175819169342/teacher-au-aroused-by-voice) on Tumblr!  
> Please feel free to send in prompts!

“You look thoughtful, Harrington. Got something to say?”

Steve lifted his gaze from the notebook he’d been doodling in to look at the grad student/proxy professor with wide-eyes. To his right, Nancy smiled and exhaled a laugh. He threw a quick look her way before looking back up.

“I, uh-…” He didn’t think admitting that he was fantasizing about asking to be rawed by his substitute would go over well. “No, Mr. Hargrove. Sorry.”  


Hargrove leaned back against the table he had been standing in front of, crossing his arms over his chest. The material of his button-up pulled enticingly across his broad shoulders, and Steve couldn’t help but look.  


_Fuck_.  


“You sure about that, amigo?”  


Steve never thought he’d say he missed Professor Clarke, but he missed Professor Clarke. _That_ dude let shit go – his T.A. didn’t let _anything_ pass him by.  


Sporting a flush so warm he could feel, Steve sat upright again and placed his pen down.  


“It’s that-…” he paused to clear his throat, hazarding a look down at his minimal notes that did nothing to help him out, “…it’s kinda fucked up that we, uh—that we can talk about couples in books if they’re straight—”  


“—but not gay ones without you idiots snickering like children? Shitty, right?” Hargrove laughed, a single note that made Steve’s abdomen hot, “Why can we read Miller talking about warm cunts, about having a bone six inches long in his prick, but not Vidal more metaphorically describing two men coming together like two halves becoming a whole?”  


Holy _fuck,_ Steve did _not_ need to hear any of those words come out of his mouth.  


It was bad enough that Hargrove was smiling at him. More of a smirk, maybe. Steve never could tell. It showed teeth, and it was _obviously_ amused, but it wasn’t—it wasn’t like he was _laughing_ at Steve. Like he wanted to hear what he had to say, but that was dumb to even consider. Steve never was a great English student, that was all Nancy. Only reason he took this class was to get an easy A with her help.  


That plan _had_ been working out until Professor Clarke took sick leave and left Hargrove in charge.  


Hargrove with the _face,_ and the _hair,_ the fucking _glasses_ that he wore, his grey _chinos_ that hugged every angle of that _ass_ , and his _voice…_  


It relaxed and wound him up. He could listen to him talk for hours, even if the words never stuck. He wanted to hear what other noises Hargrove would make, wondered if they’d pitch lower in want.  


“…uh. Probably—” he began, but the students around him began to put away their books and filter out of the classroom.  


Had an hour and a half already gone by?  


Hell, it had. He didn’t remember anything from this lecture other than Hargrove’s warm tones.  


Mechanically, Steve packed his shit up, willing his erection to flag. Nancy was already standing, waving him on.  


“Hurry up, Jonathan’s waiting for us in the library,” she said with a soft smile, “We’ve got to turn in our annotated bibs, remember?”  


No, Steve didn’t remember. He threw the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder, strategically arranging it over his lap before shifting to stand with a grimace that Nancy took for the mention of deadlines. Fine by him.  


“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”  


“Definitely,” he agreed with a weak laugh, gripping his messenger bag strap to keep it in place. He fell into step with her as they crossed the classroom, hazarding a glance at Hargrove with what he hoped was a polite smile.  


“Harrington,” Hargrove called out, “Have a minute?”  


Steve didn’t, but he’d give him whatever he wanted anyway.  


Nancy gave him a look that Steve replied to with a shrug.  


“Meet you there, Nance,” he waved her off with a fond smile before doubling back to approach Hargrove in the rapidly emptying classroom. “What is it, Mr. Hargrove?”  


“Call me Billy.”  


“Billy.” Steve blinked at him, wide-eyed and all-too aware of the interested pulse his cock gave at the intimacy of being on a first-name basis with Mr. Hargrove—uh, Billy.  


“You’re not an idiot,” he said firmly, speaking low enough so that only they could hear. Billy took a step closer, body angled towards Steve, and the total weight of his blue-eyed gaze on him. “Your grades were good. What happened?”  


Billy happened.  


“Life stuff, you know…” Steve evaded with a nervous smile that faded immediately when Billy’s easy-going smirk did. He swallowed and watched Billy watch him.  


“I read what you turned in to Clarke, and it’s solid, Harrington. _Might_ want to get a little more creative when you copy Wheeler, but. Solid.”

Fucking hell, Billy _winked_ at him, and Steve’s mouth went slack.  


“Our little secret,” Billy promised, and there, his smirk was back, wolfish and just for Steve to see. “I remember being an undergrad student, man. I get it.”  


“Thanks,” Steve mumbled, eyes on the bow of Billy’s upper lip. Watching those lips form around the words Billy spoke was mesmerizing. Absently, he registered that Billy breathed a laugh, and when his tongue passed over lips that broadened into a wider smile, Steve jolted back to himself.  


“I gotta—” he gestured towards the door, stepping backwards several paces.  


“Hey, Steve?”  


Steve about tripped on a trashcan when Billy called him by his first name.  


“Come by during office hours. I’ll make sure you pass.”  



	8. borderline kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our idiot boys get locked in the medicine closet at school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a wonderful Anon!   
> Original post [here](https://sightetsound.tumblr.com/post/175958354252/oh-shit-i-just-sent-an-ask-but-i-forgot-another)

“No,  _don’t_ —!”

The door clicked closed at Billy’s back, and Steve heaved the heaviest sigh possible.

“Perfect, now we’re fucking  _locked_  in here, asshole,” Harrington groused, glowering at him unhappily.

“How the hell was I supposed to know the medicine closet  _locked automatically_?” Billy returned, flicking him off but wincing as he did so. He looked down at his right hand, scuffed to shit and dotting with blood, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance, pain, and—

_“Common sense,_ Hargrove. You think the school wants kids sneaking in here to get fucked up on cough syrup?”

“Would take a hell of a lot of cough syrup,” he commented offhand. “Where’s the key?” He asked, reaching out to jiggle the door handle uselessly. When it didn’t budge, Billy shoulder-checked the solid door with a grunt.

“Hurt yourself even more, why don’t you.”

“ _Fuck off,_ you want out of here or not?” Billy checked the door again.

Being locked in a room with Harrington was—less than ideal. It  _was_ ideal, but for that reason alone, it wasn’t ideal. He needed out, and he needed out now.

“Nurse Nichols’ lunch should be over soon,” Steve said, audibly resigned. “She’ll eventually hear us and let us out, alright, so just—quit pacing, and let me patch you up.”

“I’m  _fine,_ ” Billy spat, keeping close to the door and away from Harrington, “I don’t need you babying me like I’m one of your middle schoolers.”

When Steve  _ignored him_ and began compiling all he needed to clean his scrape, Billy’s frown intensified.

“You hear me, pretty boy?”

“You call me that a lot, you know?” Steve glanced up to give him a quick, amused look, and Billy felt heat flood his face. When Billy didn’t immediately respond, Steve chuckled and gave a shrug. “S’fine, just funny.”

Billy swallowed and clenched his hands into fists. Immediately, he winced, unfurling his right hand to glare down at it. Rookie mistake, tripping over the damn hurdle. All because Steve was ahead of him in those  _short_  shorts.

“Dumbass,” Steve mumbled, but Billy didn’t hear any bite to the insult.

Billy shifted uncomfortably when Steve drew close with all sorts of first aid shit in one hand. When Steve extended the other to take hold of the back of Billy’s wounded hand, he about ripped it back.

“Dude. Be cool for five seconds and let me clean that for you,” Steve soothed, looking at him with those too-wide eyes of his.

“I can do it,” Billy attempted, but when Steve took his hand again, holding it upright in his palm, those long, thin fingers cupped around it like he was something to be gentle with, he couldn’t bring himself to protest again. He stared down at his hand in Harrington’s and willed himself not to shake.

“Never seen you fuck up like that in gym,” Steve commented idly while he inspected the damage. Superficial, but the shit stung, and since there was  _blood,_ Coach made him go to the nurse.

“Yeah, well,” Billy shrugged to feign indifference, voice quiet as he watched Steve turn his hand to examine it in the light. His fingers twitched periodically, thrilling at the brush of their skin, at how warm Steve’s hand was beneath his. “You didn’t have to bring me to the nurse, I knew how to get here.”

Steve didn’t reply. Instead, he dabbed the alcohol wipe across the criss-cross abrasions that spanned the heel of his hand and the top of his palm. Billy sucked in a breath through his teeth, and held it to keep from being a little bitch.

For his trouble, Steve’s thumb rested in the center of his palm, mindful of his minor injuries. He rubbed there gently, like he was trying to  _comfort_ him.

“Stings, I know.” He murmured quietly, head bowed over the work he was taking entirely too seriously. He took care in cleaning the scrapes, making certain that every fleck of dirt was removed, that the skin was sanitized.

Billy looked over the crown of Steve’s head, and started a little when, having allowed himself to breathe again, he smelled Steve. The smell of Harrington’s light cologne mixed in with s _weat_ went straight to Billy’s head. His throat clicked on a swallow, and he stood there, helpless while Harrington played nurse for him. Like he  _gave_  a shit.

Steve tossed the used wipe into a small trashbin by the door and removed his hands from Billy’s to open the tube of antibiotic cream. Billy held his hand up for Steve, fingers spreading and flexing to expel the ghost of his touch. Steve squeezed a liberal amount onto a q-tip, capped the cream, then went out of his way to take Billy’s hand again, this time resting beneath Billy’s fingers. Steve curled his own around Billy’s, and Billy—

The touch was innocent, but there was nothing clinical about it. This was  _Steve_ going out of his way to touch him, more than he had to.

He didn’t know what to do with that realization.

The grounding sensation of cool cream against the burn of his scrapes helped keep him from doing something  _stupid_ like rubbing his fingers along Harrington’s, or worse, leaning closer to breathe him in. Besides, Steve was already plenty close for that.

Finally, Steve stuck two adhesive gauze pads over each wounded area of his skin, thumb smoothing across them to ensure they were on proper.

“Good as new.”

No, he wasn’t. Billy felt more torn up than he had before, especially when Steve lifted his head to smile at him with a tentative sort of gentleness he’d never seen. 

“Yeah… Uh, thanks. Thank you. You didn’t-…” Have to. Steve wanted to, he knew. He was  _good_  that way, wanted to help and be help _ful._

Billy looked between Steve’s brown eyes, and when Steve’s smile widened, he dropped his gaze to his mouth for a split second.  _Want_ tightened his chest and abdomen and cock, and the sensation worsened as Steve’s turned his hand against Billy’s, perfect palm sliding over Billy’s bandaged one, and thin fingers threaded between Billy’s thicker ones.

Steve lowered their joined hands to rest between their bodies, thumb brushing across the back of Billy’s hand.

“I’m not as smart as you are, but I know when someone’s into me.” He said, breathing out a laugh. “Plus, uh-…” Steve licked his lips slowly, and Billy followed the motion with undivided attention. “ _That_ helped clue me in.”

Billy lifted his gaze to Steve’s, then dropped it down to see what he was looking at. He cursed, sharp and low, at the sight of his tented gym shorts. He went to tear his hand from Steve’s, but Steve tightened his grip and tugged to pull him closer.

“I, uh—” Billy began, shame pooling low in his stomach where warm heat had been moments before. “Harrington, you can’t—”

“Billy.”

He looked up to take in Steve’s expression. There was nothing cruel in the turn of his lips, no disgust in the gleam of his eyes when they dropped down to look at Billy’s red lips. Harrington began to lean in, and Billy, all heat and restless energy, surged forward to feel Steve’s mouth on his. His eyes screwed closed tightly, and he held Steve’s hand tighter, the other wrapping around his shoulder to clutch his sweaty gym tee. Steve’s arm wrapped low around his waist to pull him closer, and Billy about moaned into his mouth.

Steve broke the kiss first, keeping close enough to breathe in and around Billy’s mouth.

“I gotta show you something.”

“What?” Billy asked, licking his lips – and Steve’s.

Steve removed his arm from Billy’s body, taking a step back in order to fish around his pocket for something. Billy watched him withdraw something enclosed in his fist, and took in the shit-eating grin on Steve’s reddened mouth with a narrowed gaze.

He opened his fingers to reveal a gold key.


End file.
